


Let me call you sweetheart

by myrish_lace



Series: Movie Nights [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Couch Cuddles, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, One Shot, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9547871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Jon and Sansa have decided to watch the movie Titanic, now that they have the Stark summer home to themselves. Sansa’s known Jon since they were young. He’s Robb’s best friend, after all. This summer, though, she’s found herself falling for him. After Jon breaks out his popcorn-making skills, Sansa decides to make her move.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who've read this story before - I've just changed it a little, switching it to past tense, and adding some detail linking it to the earlier installment in the Movie Nights series, "I had a dream I was your hero." I've also broken it into two chapters, because it was getting pretty long. :)

“Jon, I can’t believe you actually want to watch Titanic.” Jon and Sansa finally had the Stark summer house to themselves for a weekend. The windows were open, and she could feel the breeze coming off the lake. They were sitting on the couch in the main room, ready for the opening credits.

“Why? It’s a classic. Besides, it’s sort of an action movie.”

Sansa scrunched up her nose. “The most tragic action movie in existence. The whole boat sinks!”

“Okay, so now I know the ending and you’ve ruined it.” Sansa knew he was teasing, but she still tossed a piece of popcorn at him.

Sansa had learned a lot about Jon this past summer, and one of her favorite new facts was that he was some sort of popcorn gourmand. She’d discovered he was the secret behind the mind-blowing popcorn Margaery used to have during movie nights at her apartment. They’d been at the grocery store earlier, walking through the aisles and choosing snacks. Sansa had picked up a bag of pretzels and paused.

“I wish we still had some of that popcorn Margaery uses to bring.”

Jon had looked at her strangely. “You mean on movie night?”

“Yeah.”

A small smile had crossed his lips. “You might still be in luck.”

And before they sat down that night, he'd tossed away the Jiffy Pop microwave bags in the cabinet and insisted on making “small batch” oil-popped popcorn in a pot on the stove. Sansa had rolled her eyes at the hipster affectation at first, even though her mouth watered as she remembered how good it was.

But Jon talked her through it, earnestly, explaining how he had to mix the popcorn and the salt and the butter in separate bowls to get the right combination for each. His face was serious and intense, and he handled the popcorn like an aspiring chef, mixing it by hand on the butcher block counter. A lock of his dark hair fell onto his forehead as he concentrated, and Sansa was struck by the impulse to tuck it behind his ear. She had been almost sad when Jon declared he was done.

"Try the popcorn before we start. You know, a taste test before you throw it all at me. I need to know if I have to add more salt.” Sansa raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked. The tang of salt on her tongue and the perfect texture of the kernels, crunchy and tender, transported her back to earlier movie nights. She was pretty sure she groaned out loud. She was mortified, but Jon just gave her a rare smile, and said “I’m glad you still like it, Sansa.”

The crinkles around his eyes made her stomach flutter. He was familiar to her, her brother’s oldest friend. He’d been there for her over the past few years, quiet and steady, helping her squeeze the last suitcase in her trunk when she left for college and getting there even before Robb did when she’d needed help kicking Joffrey out. He'd helped her build her confidence back up a little. The mess with Joffrey had left her withdrawn, less bubbly than she had been. She was more sympathetic to Jon's shyness these days.

"So, um, hey, thanks...for not picking a scary movie.”

Jon’s mouth twitched. “They terrify me, remember?”

Sansa smiled softly. "I remember.”

Jon’s hair was still unruly, and Sansa tentatively reached over to tuck the curl back into place. Jon closed his eyes briefly, and a flush appeared on his cheeks.

Sansa set the bowl aside and moved closer to Jon, close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest. “Jon, I want…”  _you_ , she wished she could say, or  _kiss me_ , but she was still scared she might have misjudged. Jon had only made her popcorn, well that and picked out the perfect movie, and they were alone in the house. She took a deep breath, and pulled Jon towards her. He traced the curve of her cheek, and the feel of the rough pad of his thumb on her skin convinced her that yes, she definitely wanted to kiss him.

“Sansa, we don’t have too…” He was looking at her lips. Jon’s grey eyes had never been this dark or intense before, not even during that night in the foyer at Margaery’s place.

“But you want to?” She hated the neediness in her voice. She promised herself after last year she’d never talk that way in front of a guy again.

Jon huffed out a gentle laugh. “Yes. I do, Sansa. Only if–”

Sansa cut him off, and pressed her mouth to his. Jon’s lips were as soft as they looked, as soft as she imagined they’d be. He cradled the back of her head, resting his other hand on her waist. Sansa learned something else about Jon in that moment too – he was an incredibly good kisser. He took his time, used just the right amount of pressure, and waited until she tentatively licked his bottom lip to open his mouth. He sat up higher, then, pulling her a little tighter. She let him in, whimpering a bit when he swept his tongue across hers. Sansa threaded her fingers through his dark hair, something she’d wanted to do for years now. Jon moaned when she scratched his scalp lightly. The sounds thrilled her, emboldened her, and she sucked on his tongue, eager to hear what other noises he’d make.

Jon made a sound low in his throat and moved his hand to the small of her back, nibbling at her lip. Sansa started to feel heat coiling in her belly. She tugged on his hair, feeling the strands like coarse silk in her hands.

Jon broke away and pulled back. Sansa couldn’t help the small whine of disappointment that escaped her. “What’s wrong, Jon?”

He kissed her forehead, then her temple, before hugging her close. She could hear his heart pounding in his chest. She was overwhelmed herself, and she was relieved he was affected too. She caught the scent of pine, and something else that was just Jon.

“Sansa, I really, really like you, okay? I have for a long time. I came so close to telling you at Marg's that night. You mean the world to me, and I don’t want to screw this up.” There was an urgency in his tone that stirred up the heat in her belly.

“Then why did you stop?” She was glad she could hide her face in his flannel shirt. Jon meant a lot to her too, and she couldn’t shake the feeling she did something to disappoint him.

“Because you feel amazing in my arms, and kissing you feels better than I dreamed it would, and I don’t want to get carried away.”

She sniffled and looked up at him. She was pretty sure there were tears on her cheeks, but if Jon was the person she believed him to be – who’d protected her from monsters real and imagined – he wouldn't be upset.

He was upset, though. He brushed the wetness away. “Sansa, sweetheart, are you all right? I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry.” His voice cracked.

Sansa was still taking in  _sweetheart_ , how good it felt to hear Jon call her that. “Don’t be sorry, Jon. You didn’t push me. I kissed you, remember?”

“I don’t think I’m likely to forget it.” He was smiling, at least, though there was a faint crease in his forehead.

“And I like kissing you. A lot. I care about you too, Jon.” Sansa felt some of the tension go out of him. “Can I tell you what I want?”

“Always, Sansa. Please.”

She touched his cheek, feeling the stubble on his skin. “I want to hear you call me sweetheart again.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa nestled into the crook of Jon’s arm as Titanic started, after he’d kissed her again, murmuring  _sweetheart_  in her ear. Jon felt warm and solid, and he couldn’t seem to resist brushing his lips over the top of her hair every five minutes. It was intoxicating to finally be near him. He’d been Robb’s shy, reserved shadow since childhood. When they were younger, Jon could barely mumble an answer when she’d cheerfully prod him at the dinner table about his school life, his track meets, anything to get him talking. But she’d come to appreciate many things about Jon, including how quick he was to treat people kindly. She’d gotten her first real glimpse of that when they’d watched Scream together. And now, Sansa was pretty sure Jon selected this movie more for her than for him.

Sansa had seen Jon truly angry exactly twice - first, when he and Robb tossed Joffrey out on his ear a few years ago, and again when Jon confronted the Bolton neighbors about mistreating their dogs. Jon hadn’t raised his voice, but Ramsay had grown paler the longer Jon spoke, and two black mastiffs joined the Stark family the next day.

Sansa pretty much recalled Titanic as “the movie where Jack does that romantic thing with Rose on the prow of the ship,” but there were some steamy parts to the movie too. And that wasn't counting the scene where Jack and Rose made out in a car and fog the windows.

Either way, she was glad they were alone in the house. She got to curl up next to Jon, with his arm draped around her shoulder. Jon took her hand five minutes in, sweeping his thumb over the back. His touch soothed her and heightened her senses at the same time.

Jack and Rose did a lot of kissing on screen. Normally kissing just made Sansa sigh in a happy way, but tonight, after kissing Jon so intensely, it reminded her of how…hot it was to have Jon’s mouth on hers, how much she enjoyed having his hand at her waist. Somehow, having the cover of watching the actors made her more adventurous. Sansa brushed Jon’s knuckles with her lips the next time Jack took Rose in his arms, and she heard Jon’s breath hitch. He wrapped his arm tighter around her shoulders, and she rested her head on his chest. She tilted her head up and nuzzled behind Jon’s ear the next time the two actors kissed. Jon put a finger under her chin and gazed heatedly into her eyes before lowering his mouth to hers. They kissed for a few blissful minutes, and Sansa coaxed Jon’s tongue to meet hers by tugging on his bottom lip. When Jon pulled back, his pupils were blown in the flickering light. “Sansa Stark, you’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured.

“Hush, Jon, there’s a movie on.” She’d never been able to tease a boy like this before, but Jon seemed to enjoy it. He smirked and kissed her forehead. She snuggled closer to him.

Sansa had forgotten the part where Jack painted Rose while she posed half-naked for him. She was likely too young for the scene to make much of an impression the first time around. But now, it made her restless. What would it be like to take off her top? How would Jon look at her if she did? She tucked her legs under her, smoothing out her cotton skirt. She wasn’t brave enough to look Jon in the eye yet, but she put her hand on his thigh. His muscles jumped under her touch. Tension coiled in her belly as she moved her hand up. Jon was breathing faster now. She glanced down to see he was unmistakably hard underneath his jeans, just above her fingers. An answering heat spread through her body. She felt safe, and turned on, two emotions she’d never experienced at the same time, until she was in Jon’s arms. She lifted her hand higher, brushing over him. He cupped her cheek, bringing her up to his open mouth. His kiss was hungry and less controlled, and Sansa hummed, pleased. She kept stroking him lightly, over his jeans, and he bucked into her hand, once, before stopping himself. He was panting when they break apart.

“Sansa–” He sounded hoarse, but he didn’t push her hand away.

“Jon. Listen to me. I want you to touch me, tonight.” She straddled him, feeling wetness and heat between her legs. She was grateful she'd thought to wear a skirt. Jon knew something of her past boyfriends, and she hoped he understood what it cost her to say this so directly.

“I’ll touch you any way you want me to, Sansa. Any way at all. Just tell me.” Jon tucked her hair behind her ear. He sounded almost as if he was pleading with her. His lips were red from kissing.

Sansa grasped the hem of her shirt and started to pull it over her head. She got her braid stuck, and Jon helped her disentangle herself and toss the shirt aside. 

Jon stared at her like she was some kind of goddess. Her dark blue lace bra complemented her coloring, and she was very, very glad for her natural inclination to wear pretty things underneath her clothes. He ran his hands over her waist, drinking her in like he couldn't get enough of her. The feeling of his hand at the small of her back was nothing compared to his touch on her bare skin. She shivered at the contact. She wasn't sure what to tell him, but she knew what she wanted. So she took his hands and placed them on her breasts, over her bra.

“You’re beautiful, Sansa.” Sansa had heard elaborate expressions of admiration before, from men who lied to her. Jon’s simple, sincere whisper made its way into her heart, though, and the way he flexed his fingers over the lace of her bra did little for her self-control.

“Jon, please–” Jon didn’t need any more encouragement. He nipped and sucked at her, and she felt each of her nipples stiffen, felt a bolt of white heat between her legs when he eased the lace down and took her in his mouth. Her panties were soaked, and she rocked her hips over his jeans without realizing it.

She tipped her head back, and Jon pressed open-mouthed kisses up her neck, rolling her nipples between his fingers. Her bra was pushed all the way down, now, she might as well not be wearing one. She was exposed, and warm, and safe, and she loved it.

“Tell me what else you want, sweet girl.” Jon’s voice was a hot rasp in her ear. “We can stop, if you–“

Sansa shook her head. She didn’t want to stop. She wasn’t ready to be completely naked though, either. She wished she wasn’t so inexperienced. What she wanted was to chase the heat in her belly, so she could feel with Jon how she felt when she touched herself sometimes. She had no idea how to say that, though.

“More, Jon, just – not everything, okay?” Her voice trembled a little. She wondered if she was being a terrible tease for grinding on top of Jon while telling him she wasn’t willing to have sex, not yet.

Jon sought her eyes, and all she saw when he looked at her was love. “Always okay. Always.” He skimmed his fingers down to her skirt. “Can I touch you under here?”

“Yes.” Uncertainty flashed across Jon’s face despite her answer. Sansa pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him. She touched the spot behind his ear that led to their first kiss on the couch, and she felt a tremor go through him. “I trust you, Jon.”

Jon rumbled in his chest, and his fingers lifted the hem of her skirt, skating up her leg. He let out a low groan when he slipped a finger under her panties, touching her wetness. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He started to stroke her, and she mewled and pushed down onto his hand. She forced herself to stop, unsure of what to do. Jon rubbed her back, and she relaxed. “It’s all right, push, if it feels good, Sansa, I only want you to feel good when I touch you.”

He slid a finger over her as she let herself go and started to ride him. He bucked under her once, and the friction felt so right she begged him to do it again. He moaned, and picked up his own rhythm. Soon they were moving together, and Jon was whispering in her ear,  _sweetheart_  and  _beautiful girl_  and  _wanted you for so long now_. She was locked in his arms, and felt a sharp spark each time she rolled over him. She felt him thrusting up into her, and she knew soon she’ll want all of this, all of him, no clothes between them, just Jon moving deep inside her. That thought took her over the edge and she cried out, rocking against his hips, seeing white light behind her eyes as her whole body flooded with pleasure. She heard Jon inhale sharply and felt him stiffen underneath her, but he didn’t stop stroking her until she pushed his hand away, too sensitive to take any more. She collapsed against his chest. They stayed that way, lost in each other.

Sansa only realized she’d dozed off when a change in the soundtrack’s music woke her. She ran her hand through Jon’s hair, just because she could, and he gave her a sleepy smile. “I’ve never done that with anyone, Jon.” He kissed her again, softly, languorously, and she played with the buttons of his shirt.

Sansa glanced over at the television to see the end credits. “Well, we skipped the movie.”

Jon brushed her knuckles with his lips. “A certain someone already told me the whole ship sinks, so I don’t feel like I missed a lot.” Sansa tried to put on her best indignant look, but she started to laugh instead, and soon Jon was laughing with her. He helped her find her shirt, kissing her a few more times for good measure, then started to get up off the couch.

Sansa stilled him. She didn’t want him to leave yet. “Jon….”

Jon sighed. “Sansa, I am going to spend every minute I can on this couch with you, but I have to go change.” He winced at the concern in her eyes. “Sweetheart, I’ll be back. I promise.”

Sansa finally saw the wet stain on his jeans and blushed. “I’m sorry, Jon. I didn’t think.” She had been selfish, especially in those last few minutes.

Jon took both of her hands. “Sansa, trust me, I have never cared less about the fate of a pair of jeans. Give me five minutes, and I will be right back here. We can watch any movie you want.”

Sansa leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Can we pretend to watch one again too?”

“God, yes.”


End file.
